you know, for a long time after you
and after i told my therapist about you
i had to steady myself with several deep
breaths whenever i saw a car like yours,
the interior so familiar that i felt the
leather sucking my legs any time a
flash of muscled gold streaked down
the highway. i remember how you
laughed and laughed when i said it
was my first time, even though i was
only talking about riding with the top
down, my hair whipping around my
face, into my eyes, into my mouth.
i remember a winding wooded road,
a goldfinch pelting the windshield
and rolling up over our heads. i
didn’t believe in signs back then, but
after that i don’t think i have a choice.
